


If I'm not in charge

by s0mmerspr0ssen



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Child Abuse, Comeplay, Dark, Degradation, M/M, Manipulation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys, Tarsus IV, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:31:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0mmerspr0ssen/pseuds/s0mmerspr0ssen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Admiral Marcus takes advantage of Jim. Nobody notices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I'm not in charge

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please note the warnings and tags. 
> 
> Please be careful or avoid if you have triggers in the field of rape, abuse, consent issues or childhood trauma. Please be careful or avoid if you've got squicks in that direction. Please be careful or avoid if fucked-up rape fic is just not your thing. 
> 
> This is fic is not happy and unless you're wired that way, also not very sexy.

It’s been two weeks on campus, and Jim still wakes up in the mornings wondering what in hell he is doing here.  
  
He had never intended to join Starfleet. In fact, he had often told himself that it would be the last thing he’d do. He had lost two parents to the black -- his father on the _Kelvin_ , his mother through her year-long missions -- and he wasn’t going to end the same way.  
  
But Pike touched something in him, caught him at a vulnerable moment, and so he agreed, and now he shares a room with Dr. Leonard McCoy and has to get up at 0600 for an unbelievable classload, because he said he’d do this in three years instead of four. Jim has always loved a good challenge, and he’s a sore loser.  
  
Luckily, McCoy is about as mystified why he joined Starfleet as Jim. Jim figures they make a good match -- Jim’s scared shitless he’ll lose another person to space, McCoy is scared shitless of space, period.  
  
There’s a quick friendship building between them and Jim’s glad about it. He’s never had a lot of real friends, but McCoy is charmingly grumpy, loves to have a drink or two and doesn’t wake up cheery in the morning telling him what a great day it’s going to be. Jim’s pretty sure he got the real deal with his roommate, although nobody else would agree.  
  
After their first fortnight of classes, McCoy stumbles into their room, obviously pissed off at his superiors. The doctor has ample experience in his job and, so Jim has gathered, two or three shiny degrees already, but apparently he’s still being treated like a clueless cadet.  
  
As Jim’s been on edge ever since he’s realized people are staring and whispering about him because he is George Kirk’s son, he proposes a dingy bar in some proximity to the campus and they go get shit-faced.  
  
McCoy wakes up with a new nickname, Jim with a hangover the likes even he has seldomly seen. It ties them together in a way Jim would not have believed possible, but drunkenly crying on each other’s shoulders about how unexpectedly shitty their life has turned out to be apparently forges some sort of brotherly bond.  
  
Jim never mentions McCoy’s despair over having lost custody for his daughter, McCoy doesn’t mention the indications that Jim’s stepfather Frank might have been an abusive alcoholic asshole.  
  
But Jim is allowed to call him Bones now, and McCoy openly displays a holo of his daughter on his desk and there’s a silent agreement that they’ll stick together and watch each other’s backs.

\----

  
Four weeks, and Jim has gotten used to the stares.  
  
He knows it’ll die off eventually, especially as he’s been working hard on building a certain reputation. He certainly doesn’t want to be Starfleet’s golden boy, George Kirk Junior, so he makes sure to do three things: drink, fuck and ace all of his classes.  
  
His teachers quickly get pissed off at his attitude, but as he writes straight A’s and actually takes sexual consent serious, they can’t do anything about it. He’s an adult, so they can’t keep him from leaving campus or drinking, and there’s little leeway to be gained on him otherwise.  
  
At least he thinks so. Then, he’s being called into Admiral Marcus’ office when his second month at the Academy starts. Later, he’ll laugh at himself for his own naivete, his belief that things might actually get better and that he’s not forced to relive the shittyness of his adolescence.  
  
When he gets the message to report to Marcus’ office at 1900 on Friday, he’s admittedly nervous, but not scared. He knows he’s done nothing to merit expulsion, because Pike has summoned him the day before and told him so after the chew-out about his nightly exploits. Jim had blocked him off with a cocky smile.  
  
“Marcus, huh?” Bones comments as Jim straightens his uniform and makes an effort with his hair. He might be aiming for the reputation of a cocky bastard, but he knows to pick his battles. If you’re summoned before an admiral you don’t know, for something you don’t know you’ve done, you aim for a good first impression.  
  
“Yup,” Jim replies as he buttons his red cadet jacket.  
  
“Hear he’s a tough one.” Bones abandons his PADD and looks at him from where he’s lounging on his bed in plain civvies. He doesn’t look overly worried underneath the grumpy facade, but there is at least some concern. Sometimes, Jim grins to himself at night because he made a friend like Bones and hasn’t managed to drive him away yet.  
  
“Big on discipline, yeah.” Jim’s asked some people, and hacked some databases. Marcus loves weaponry, gives eighty percent of lectures on Military History and has kicked no less than forty-nine cadets out of Starfleet because they’ve somehow not met his approval.  
  
“Don’t piss him off,” Bones cautions.  
  
“I won’t,” Jim replies, because he doesn’t actually want to become Marcus’ number fifty.  
  
He leaves with time to spare and does not linger to talk to any attractive cadets passing his way. Still, a broken turbolift and a secretary who simply does not find it necessary to get off his phone to let Jim into Marcus’ office makes him late by exactly two minutes.  
  
Marcus is not impressed.  
  
“You’re late, cadet,” he says and Jim actually has to suppress a swallow.  
  
Marcus is intimidating. His face is harsh, angular and lined. Here’s a man who has seen bad and knows there’s worse out there.  
  
Jim can appreciate that in a man. Pike is like that too in a way, but he still has some kind softness about him. With Pike, Jim feels like he can push endlessly, and will get gentle guidance in return, at least for now.  
  
Marcus looks like one wrong word will set him off and make him crush Jim like a worthless bug.  
  
“Sorry, sir,” Jim says. “But your secretary--”  
  
“Don’t blame others for your sloppiness, Kirk,” Marcus interrupts and Jim would get angry if he wasn’t so busy being frozen to the spot.  
  
Jim knows he’s terrible with authority figures, but that usually means he pushes back, tests their limits until they see him as a lost case and drop him. But then there’s also people like Marcus. Hard as steel, blazing eyes, completely aware of their intimidation factor and clearly not to be fucked with.  
  
Frank was like that. Others … as well. Jim knows he’s screwed and tries his hardest not to tremble as he’s observed by grey eyes.  
  
“It has come to my attention that you are not living up to what is expected from a Starfleet cadet,” Marcus states. His tone implies that he’s right, and any protest will be cut short.  
  
“Sir?” Jim manages and it’s pathetic that he thinks of his even voice as an achievement. With Pike, he would be defending himself by now, arrogant grin included. With Marcus, Jim has a hard time not to piss his pants.  
  
“Your promiscuousness, Kirk,” Marcus spits.  
  
Jim stares. Stares some more. Then says: “Sir, I don’t think--”  
  
Marcus is apparently not one to let others speak their mind. “Is there a particular reason,” he continues, his voice going condescending in a very particular way that sounds instantly degrading, “why you are behaving like a sex-crazed animal, or is it simply in your nature to fuck everything that moves?”  
  
In that moment, Jim cannot actually believe those exact words have left the admiral’s mouth. He’s pretty sure he’s not allowed to phrase it that way, that this particular way of talking to him is inappropriate, that there’s official lingo for this kind of reprimand.  
  
“I … I don’t--”  
  
But again, Marcus won’t let him speak. “Cadet Kirk,” he says. “Every single member of Starfleet is expected to adhere to the highest of standards. Behaving like a common slut is not among the trades we are looking for. If you do not cease your disgraceful and disgusting behavior, there will be consequences.” He pauses effectively. “Discipline.”  
  
Jim’s ears start ringing.  
  
“Dismissed, Kirk,” Marcus orders and turns his back on him.

\----

  
Jim later wants to slap himself for leaving without ever actually defending himself.  
  
He walks around campus feeling numb. He replays the conversation in his head several times, wonders if he’s imagined some parts of it. About an hour afterwards, the numbness finally leaves and makes space for anger.  
  
Jim all but storms across campus until he’s at Captain Pike’s office. His secretary is no longer at her desk and everything’s been shut off, but there’s light shining through the crack of Pike’s door, and Jim knows he’s in.  
  
He punches the opening sensor of the door much more heavily than the delicate technology requires and runs into the office.  
  
Pike is alone, going over paperwork of some sort, and looks up at him with confusion for several moments. When he takes in Jim’s heavy breathing and flushed face, his face grows serious.  
  
“Cadet Kirk,” he says dryly. “I was not aware you had made a late-night appointment.”  
  
“What the _fuck_ is Marcus’ problem?” Jim yells in return.  
  
Pike stands, pushing back his chair. “You will calm down at once, or I’ll have security lock you up in the brig for the entire weekend.”  
  
Jim takes a breath, but none of his anger dissipates.  
  
“I take it your conversation with _Admiral_ Marcus did not go to your liking,” Pike continues. And of course he knows already. Probably talked to Marcus, too.  
  
“You were in on this?” Jim asks, feeling like he’s been punched in the gut.  
  
“He approached me about it, yes,” Pike admits readily. “He knows it was I who recruited you so he wanted my perspective. Wanted to know what I saw in you.”  
  
“And you told him I was a slut?” Jim’s fists ball by his side. “Told him I deserved a reprimand for my ‘promiscuity’?”  
  
Pike’s eyes narrow in a way they haven’t done before. “Cadet,” he says sharply. “You will calm down _now_.”  
  
But Jim cannot calm down. Pike’s betrayed him, sending Marcus after him, agreeing with the admiral’s assessment when just yesterday, he’s told Jim that his behavior was not strictly against regulations.  
  
“I won’t fucking calm down,” Jim shouts. “I can’t believe you would do this to me!”  
  
Pike swiftly circles his table and steps up to him. “The admiral approached me because he was concerned about you. Like myself, he’s had high hopes for you when he saw who you were. You’re smart, ambitious. You could be the very best of Starfleet, but you’ve decided to behave like a damn teenager. The admiral could not believe that George Kirk’s son would act like this and asked me if I deemed it wise that he talk to you.”  
  
Jim’s very close to punching Pike in the face, but he’s at least still got that much self-control.  
  
“I said yes,” Pike tells him like it’s not the biggest joke in the entire known universe. “You know it was Admiral Marcus who talked _me_ into joining? I know he gives good speeches. Inspiring speeches. I’d hoped he’d open your eyes to how you’re wasting your talents by playing playboy, but apparently--”  
  
Jim gets in one good punch before Pike has him pressed to the floor, his knee half-crushing Jim’s diaphragm. He retrieves his communicator from a pocket, flips it open and calls security. There’s the faintest redness around his jaw from where Jim managed to deck him, but he’s sure a hypo and a regenerator will take care of that in no time.  
  
“I’m disappointed in you,” he says as Jim’s hauled away.  
  
Jim dearly wishes he’d been close enough to spit him in the face, the bastard.  


 

\----

  
Bones picks him up on Sunday, saying nothing as he drags him back to the dorm with a thunderous expression.  
  
“You’re damn lucky Pike’s not pressing charges,” he snaps after he’s pushed Jim onto his bed and whipped out his personal tricoder. “That you’re his favorite, even though you’ve fucking sucker-punched him in the face.”  
  
“Everyone knows?” Jim asks, incredulous. The weekend in confinement has not calmed him down. If anything, he’s feeling even more angry, more itchy. He wants to punch somebody. Start a fight. Quit everything, except he feels like he’s still got something to prove.  
  
“No, stupid.” Bones glares at the tricoder, maybe because it tells him that Jim’s just fine. “I was on duty and fixed him up. Pretty sure he can’t get away with letting you off this if any of the brass knew, and he’s aware we’re friends, so he came to me and talked me and the security people into keeping our damn mouths shut about it. Officially, you’ve simply been disrespectful.”  
  
He puts away the tricoder, then grabs Jim by the shoulders. Shakes him once, twice. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?” he asks, clearly angry. “That man loves you like you’re his son, in case you haven’t fucking noticed. Why would you _do_ this?”  
  
“None of your fucking business,” Jim snaps back, because clearly, Bones has already made up his mind about who’s at fault here. “Fuck off, McCoy, you’re not my damn mother.”  
  
They don’t talk for the rest of the night.  


 

\----

  
They don’t talk for the rest of the week either, but that might have to do with the fact that Jim spends all of his time either in the library acing every single one of his assignments, or fucking one fellow cadet after another.  
  
He doesn’t give a damn about Marcus, let alone his threats. He knows he’s not going against regulations. The admiral’s got nothing on him.  
  
When he gets another invite to Marcus’ office for Friday, 1900, Jim almost laughs. He knows he has to go, lest risking another reprimand for insubordination. He feels confident when he leaves the dorm, ignoring Bones’ incredulous look when he tells him just where he’s going. But when he approaches Marcus’ office, he’s getting anxious once more.  
  
Marcus had been intimidating. Jim hopes he can channel enough of his remaining anger to defend himself this time.  
  
He can’t. As soon as he stands before Marcus and his steely grey eyes, he feels about ten centimeters tall and his mouth is glued shut.  
  
Marcus makes a point of staring at him for what might possibly be five minutes straight. Jim knows he’s fidgeting by the end, but at least he’s holding the admiral’s gaze, which feels like some sort of victory.  
  
“I can’t believe you have the gall to challenge me like this, Kirk,” Marcus finally says. “Did you not get my message when I said there’d be consequences for your behavior?”  
  
 _Discipline_ , Jim remembers faintly. He has no idea what Marcus has planned, as Jim has not technically done anything to deserve an official punishment. Unless Marcus knows about his punching Pike.  
  
He does, as it turns out. “I’ve got people in campus security, you know,” Marcus says, a dangerous sort of smirk on his face.  
  
He doesn’t have to say anything else.  
  
Jim’s one hundred percent sure Marcus can get the security people to testify. Can get Pike to testify, when he sets his mind to it. Pike, who finds Marcus’ speeches to be so very inspiring.  
  
Jim’s essentially trapped. He knows it, and Marcus knows it, too.  
  
“Now, listen carefully, Kirk. I’ve not given up on you yet. I’ve seen your grades, and I knew your father. Good man. Selfless. Courageous.” He steps up to Jim, right into his personal space.  
  
Jim does not even know how he manages to stay at parade rest with his legs trembling like this. Maybe because he no longer has to stare into Marcus’ eyes, but past his left shoulder instead.  
  
Marcus speaks directly into his ear: “I think what you lack is a firm hand. Some guidance to put you back onto the right path.”  
  
Marcus’ hand comes to rest firmly against Jim’s fly.  
  
Jim goes very, very still. The trembling in his legs suddenly vanishes like it has never been there at all. An icy flush makes its way down his back, and the ringing in his ears makes a reappearance.  
  
This isn’t happening, surely. Not again. Not now, not here, in this new life he’s been building for himself.  
  
“We’ve already established you’re a slut,” Marcus says, massaging Jim’s crotch almost tenderly. “Therefore, we’ll have to limit your sexual outlets first. I’ll help you control your urges. When I’m finished with you, you won’t even be able to come without my permission.”  
  
Jim cannot get out a single word in response.  
  
Marcus massages his crotch for a few more moments, breathing harshly into Jim’s ear. Then he steps back, taking his horrible hand with him.  
  
“You don’t seem very shocked,” he notes, looking Jim up and down. At least, that what Jim gathers from the corners of his eyes, as he’s very focused on the wall behind Marcus’ desk. “Don’t tell me someone’s tried this before.”  
  
Jim doesn’t think his face or stance changes, but Marcus suddenly knows.  
  
“So you’ve always been a slut,” he says, and laughs.  
  
He laughs for several minutes and Jim can only stand there and take it and remember feeling hungry and desperate enough to do anything. Remember smelly breath and hot hands and people telling him he deserves this because he’s inferior and destined to die anyway.  
  
“I’ll be damned,” Marcus finally manages, sickening amusement in his voice. “Follow me, then. Let’s see how well you’ve been trained.”  
  
Jim knows he could use this moment to flee. Run out of Marcus’ office, face the disciplinary trial for punching a captain of the fleet instead. Rationally, he knows.  
  
But there’s never been anything rational about this kind of thing.  
  
So he swallows and moves. Follows Marcus to his chair and lets himself be grabbed by the shoulders and pushed onto his knees. He obeys when he’s told to look up, ordered to watch Marcus’ every move.  
  
Marcus traces his mouth with a thumb, assessing, prodding, pushing inside to rub over Jim’s tongue. He hums thoughtfully, but his face is pure anticipation. He looks gleeful, almost.  
  
Jim’s pretty sure he’s close to passing out himself. The admiral apparently favors plushy carpets, so he can’t even focus on the floor digging into his knees. All he feels is Marcus’ thumb pushing around inside of his mouth.  
  
“I can’t imagine how filthy you must be,” he says, starting to practically fuck Jim’s mouth with this finger. Jim takes it. “How many cocks you’ve sucked, pussies you’ve licked.” With this thumb pressed inside, he grabs Jim’s chin with the rest of his fingers. “This is mine now, you understand? You will not fuck, or lick, or suck anybody else. I have my way to know if you don’t obey.”  
  
Jim doesn’t doubt it for a minute. He nods as much as the firm grip on his chin allows it.  
  
“Now, show me what you can do.” The thumb slips out of his mouth and Marcus spreads his legs in the chair.  
  
It’s so easy, doing this. Jim knows very well how this goes. He raises his hand, careful to look up at Marcus unless it’s absolutely necessary to watch what he himself’s doing. He unbuttons and unzips the pants of the admiral’s uniform. He slips his hand inside his underwear until he has got a hold of the half-hard cock inside. He carefully works it through the opened fly and holds it in place with his right hand.  
  
“Make it good,” Marcus says and Jim looks him right into the face as he licks the tip.  
  
It’s oddly easy from then on. Marcus is quick to fuck his mouth instead of letting Jim do the work, so really, all Jim has to do is watch Marcus’ face fill with sick pleasure as his head is forced towards the admiral’s crotch over and over again by a harsh hand curled into his hair and scalp.  
  
“Take it, slut,” Marcus pants as he fucks his mouth relentlessly, repeatedly triggering Jim’s gag reflex. “Yeah, just like that.”  
  
Marcus comes bitter and sticky down his throat, but some semen still makes it onto his chin and drips right onto Jim’s chest.  
  
Marcus lets him clean his cock first, then runs his forefinger over the spot on Jim’s chest and stuffs it into Jim’s abused mouth, making him lick that off, too.  
  
“This was too easy, really,” Marcus tells him when he finally buttons his pants closed again. “When I chose to do something about this, I hadn’t thought you’d be this easy to break in.”  
  
Jim numbly watches him open a drawer and retrieve what’s quite definitely a cock ring, remote controlled.  
  
“Take this with you, put in on tonight. This’ll make sure you’re not breaking our little arrangement.”  
  
Marcus offers it to him like a token of much value. Jim accepts the ring with a careful nod. Maybe just because he can, Marcus slaps him in the face. Jim doesn’t react beyond returning his eyes to Marcus and waiting for more orders.  
  
“Dismissed, cadet,” he says. “Watch your schedule for your next appointment.”  


 

\----

  
Jim does not cry when he returns to the dorms, but he also has no response for Bones’ worried looks.  


 

\----

  
He puts the ring on because he doesn’t know what else to do. He could go to Pike, but Pike admires Marcus. He could tell Bones, but he’d probably think Jim is trying for some warped form of revenge.  
  
Really, he has nobody to tell. Who’d believe him, anyway? He has no proof for Marcus’ actions and even if he managed to push for some sort of trial, they’d look into his file, see his post-Tarsus psych evals and put one and one together. Call it late-onset PTSD, a need for attention.  
  
Jim’s lost faith in the system ever since he told a doctor in the hospital about just where he had gotten all these bruises and broken bones from, but the doctor had turned out to be a friend of Frank’s and been told Jim was a filthy little liar.  
  
At least, Frank’s never touched him like this, like Marcus and Kodos’ people. He’s only managed to punch and slap a deep knowledge of worthlessness into Jim.  
  
Jim wears the ring and quits fucking around. He spends all of his free time in the library, the simulator room or in additional tutorials. He eats his meals with Bones like nothing has changed and retires early to his bed at night.  
  
Bones asks him about it on Thursday, and Jim tells him his eyes have been opened, that he’s seen reason. If Bones is suspicious of his sudden change of heart, he certainly doesn’t comment on it. He looks exhausted from his night shift at Starfleet medical anyway, so Jim doubts he has time to worry about anything else.  
  
On Friday, 1900, he has another appointment. It’s never been like this. On schedule. Jim doesn’t know if knowing exactly when it happens is better or worse than random occurrences.  
  
“My, my,” Marcus says after he’s made Jim strip and assured himself of his utter compliance. “I can’t believe you’re this easy to train.”  
  
He’s blinded the windows and sent his secretary off to an early weekend, so Jim knows tonight might go on for a while.  
  
He’s not wrong.  
  
“I want to see what you can do,” Marcus says as he orders him about. “How well you follow orders.”  
  
It turns out Jim follows all orders, no matter how degrading. He kneels and crawls, he licks Marcus’ boots, he barks like a dog and lets himself be slapped and kicked around. He calls Marcus _Master_. He tells Marcus that he’s a slut, a worthless piece of shit, a hole to be fucked. He tells Marcus in great detail about the first time he’s been fucked into the mouth, and the ass, and both at once.  
  
“I honestly can’t believe this,” Marcus marvels as he fucks Jim roughly over his desk. It’s way past midnight and the edge of the table bites harshly into Jim’s abdomen. At some point, he’s gotten hard, like the slut he is, but the cockring prevents any form or release. “Pike’s convinced you’re an arrogant, self-confident genius, but really, you’re just a toy to be used and passed around.”  
  
Marcus fucks him until Jim’s hole is raw. He’s sure the man must have taken some sort of stamina-improvement, but it’s no matter. Jim’s sure the admiral has a fucking machine stashed away somewhere if he ever tires of taking Jim himself.  
  
“I want you to come to my apartment tomorrow,” Marcus tells him as Jim gets dressed, his hole still leaking semen and the weird, itchy lube the admiral’s used to prepare him. Apparently, he doesn’t like fucking into blood. “To play some more.”  
  
Jim memorizes the address, recites it three times for Marcus’ amusement and leaves.  


 

\----

  
Marcus’ apartment is devoid of any sort of personal touch, all clean lines and dark, edgy furniture. Jim faintly remembers somebody telling him he’s got a house in London, where his daughter lives.  
  
He’s told to strip as soon as the door’s locked behind him and he complies. He crawls after Marcus into the living room, gets fucked into the mouth, then his ass is filled up with a vibrator. He twitches, whimpers and moans at Marcus’ feet as the admiral watches a holovid, using Jim’s back as a legrest as he enjoys the film.  
  
He gets fucked into the mouth again. This time, Marcus comes all over his face and lets it dry. When he finally tires of Jim some time Sunday morning, he slips vibrating anal beads inside of Jim instead and tells him that he’s set them on a random interval, that he better replace them after bathroom breaks.  
  
He also tells him he’s booked a spot for Jim with Pike on Monday.  
  
“I want you to apologize to him,” he says as he watches Jim clean his face in the bathroom, scratch his come from his eyebrows. Clearly, he can’t go out like this, though it’s obvious Marcus would love to make him do it. “For punching him, yelling at him too, most likely. Make sure you seem sincere. I’ll talk to him afterwards.”  
  
Jim nods and leaves.  


 

\----

  
Bones asks him what in hell’s name he’s doing, spending his entire Saturday away and not returning to their dorm drunk, only exhausted.  
  
“Studying,” Jim tells him with a tired smile and curls up in bed to sleep away the day.  
  
He can’t sleep through, though, because the beads wake him several times, making him twitch and bite down on his moans and whimpers as to not alert his roommate.  


 

\----

  
Pike looks at him long and hard after Jim has apologized profusely.  
  
“The admiral set you up for this, didn’t he?” he asks and for a heady moment, Jim’s filled with fervent hope.  
  
Does Pike know? Will he help Jim, make Marcus stop? Get this nightmare to end?  
  
But his hope’s crushed when Pike smiles, honestly and warmly, like he really believes what he says next: “He’s a good influence. I know you’ve been having more appointments with him. I told you he could be convincing.”  
  
Jim’s eyes fill with tears he simply can’t hold back.  
  
“You’ve been behaving much better, I’ve been told,” Pike continues, still smiling. “Alexander has been a good mentor to me, and an even better friend. I’m glad he’s taken you under his wings.”  
  
Jim cries. Pike mistakes it for tears of regret and movement and hugs him close, calling him _James_ , and _son_ , telling him how proud he is of Jim for following Marcus’ advice and guidance.  
  
Somehow, Jim even manages to thank him for it.  


 

\----

  
It’s inevitable Bones catches him with some sort of sex toy eventually. It’s been three months since this started, and Marcus has been getting more creative, more controlling. He’s called off the cockring because he knows Jim won’t masturbate anymore, but he’s a fan of toys, especially the vibrating kind.  
  
Jim simply forgets to lock the bathroom when he inserts Marcus’ latest gift, the thickest vibrator yet. It’s slick, black and shiny and its tip nestles perfectly against Jim’s prostate. When Bones walks in on him, there’s a moment of shock so intense Jim thinks he might actually faint.  
  
Then, Bones hurriedly runs from the bathroom, holding a hand before his eyes and shouting: “Jesus fucking Christ, what in hell is _wrong_ with you?”  
  
Jim doesn’t dare come out for half an hour, and Bones is still there when he finally does.  
  
“Look,” he says with a flushed face when Jim settles down on his bed. Carefully, because there’s no way to do this quickly with the thick toy lodged firmly in place. “Sorry for freaking. I just -- yeah. I get it now.”  
  
Jim looks at him questioningly. He knows not to get his hopes up about discovery since Pike. Nobody knows, will ever know, or help him.  
  
“I was wondering why you’ve been so subdued, but I know there’s people with, well, special urges?” For a medical man, Bones is unusually flustered by this topic. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s okay. Kinky is-- okay. Just please, lock the bathroom. And don’t tell me about your latest spanking, or something.”  
  
If Jim still felt any amusement, he’d laugh at the sheer irony of Bones thinking Jim’s gotten himself a dominant sex partner to quell his _special urges_.  


 

\----

  
Four months, and it almost seems like Marcus is getting bored with him.  
  
“You never even fight back,” he says as he fits Jim with a gag that’s shaped like a long, thick phallus. “You’d think you’ve grown up on an Orion slave cruiser.”  
  
He fits a vibrator into Jim’s ass -- he can wear really big ones these days -- then powers through a one hours session with his bullwhip, the marks disappearing quickly and efficiently due to the dermal regenerator Marcus has gotten from somewhere, even without a medical license to his name.  
  
Afterwards, Jim’s fucked with the handle of the whip, then by Marcus himself, who strokes Jim as he finds his release with a triumphant grunt.  
  
He lets Jim come sometimes, these days, because he likes making him eat his own come and thank him for it afterwards.  


 

\----

  
Five months and Jim’s convinced Marcus will continue this for the entirety of Jim’s time at the Academy, then transfer him to his ship or post to keep playing with him for eternity.  
  
Marcus has played with him on Thanksgiving, the day right after Christmas, which he’s spent with his daughter, nearly every weekend, and all through Jim’s brief winter break in January. Jim knows he’s his, forever.  
  
But then he’s saved, and it happens so quickly, he can hardly believe it’s actually over.  
  
It all comes down to superior Vulcan hearing. Jim knows Marcus’ has been pursuing Commander Spock for weeks. Spock is possibly the most talented science officer Starfleet has ever had the fortune to recruit, and Marcus wants him for the special weapon program he’s been working on. He firmly ignores Vulcan pacifism, and Spock’s repeated refusals (each of which means a very _special_ session for Jim to calm his frustration and anger) and finally manages to convince the Vulcan to a little conversation in his office.  
  
As Spock has voiced a preference for Friday, 1900, Jim’s been moved to 1800. Marcus’ secretary doesn’t even blink an eye at him these days. Undoubtedly, he is as convinced as Pike that Jim’s been getting special tutoring of some kind.  
  
Marcus makes Jim blow him and it’s almost nostalgic, the fact that this ends as it started. Marcus has one of those days where he likes to spew endless derogatory things at Jim, tell him how worthless he is, the things he wants to do him and has already done.  
  
He finishes at 1855 precisely and dismisses Jim right by the door with a slap for his face and a fresh set of anal beads stuffed up his ass, telling him to be nice and prepared for tomorrow. He’s bought a new toy, even bigger than the last. An _Orion fist_.  
  
Only when Marcus opens the door does he realize he hasn’t engaged the sound absorption in the privacy settings. And while his secretary might still not have heard a word through the closed door, it’s clear Spock’s been sitting close enough to it that he’s heard everything that's been said for the past five minutes.  
  
The Vulcan stands, takes one long look at Jim, then Marcus, and _runs_.  
  
Marcus has no way of catching up to a Vulcan, but it’s almost hilarious that he tries anyway. Jim simply sinks onto the chair the Commander abandoned and waits for things to happen, or not. He doesn’t even think about removing the beads, or calling for somebody himself.  
  
The secretary only blinks at him, confused.  


 

\----

  
The thing is that Spock doesn’t even know the full story when he reports it, Marcus hot on his heels until he realizes what he really should be doing is trying to flee. Spock only knows a cadet is engaging in sexual activities with an admiral, and that’s not proper.  
  
But Spock’s not stupid, and it’s clear he’s seen some sort of look on Jim’s face when he left the office, so he runs and is much faster and he succeeds.  
  
Marcus is suspended and to be put into confinement immediately because nobody for a second believes a Vulcan would lie. They catch Marcus just as he's about to board a private shuttle.  
  
Meanwhile, Jim’s picked up by Bones at the office. His face is so pale Jim asks him if he’s feeling all right. Bones lets out a laugh that sounds like a sob.  


 

\----

  
Jim is grateful it’s Bones who’s appointed with taking care of him. He is quiet and stoic as he goes through the rape kit, doesn’t say a word when he removes the beads and tightens his lips when Jim accepts several hypos without struggle.  
  
Afterwards, Jim hears him throw up in the bathroom adjoined to the exam room. When he returns, he orders a nurse to file the appropriate paperwork and sits next to Jim on the biobed to hug him close, apologizing quietly into his hair with tears in his voice.  
  
It’s probably inadequate, but Jim forgives him anyway. He didn’t tell anybody, and Bones isn’t psychic.  
  
Besides, he’s warm and smells good, and is soft where Marcus was hard.  


 

\----

  
The trial is pretty horrible. At least, that's what Bones says afterwards. Jim doesn’t remember it that way.  
  
He’s wonderfully numb as he gives his own testimony, even though it makes a lot of people cry. He talks about Frank, and Tarsus, and Marcus. Because they ask him, he tells them how often he was ordered to Marcus’ office or apartment, which toys were involved, what else he’s been asked to do.  
  
He also finds out that he’s not the first to be proposed or even used like this by Marcus, but the other forty-nine have chosen quitting Starfleet and going off-planet. None of them stayed for months, like Jim did. Three weeks at most.  
  
Pike cries through his own testimony, and Jim decides to forgive him, too. Marcus is pretty smart, very manipulative. It’s not Pike’s fault he’s not been of any help.  
  
Jim likes Spock’s best, because he’s very straightforward about it, and also doesn’t throw Jim any pitying or desperate looks as he tells them what he’s overheard and why he chose to report the admiral at once.  
  
Marcus refuses to give a statement and stoically sits through the entirety of the trial. He’s found guilty. Very guilty.  
  
Jim goes to thank Spock afterwards, still floating on a heady sort of detachment over the entire procedure.  
  
“Gratitude is illogical and unnecessary,” the Commander replies. “But you are welcome. Have you been assigned mental counselling?”  
  
“Thrice a week,” he tells him.  
  
“Adequate.” He pauses, assesses him. “I have been told you are a skilled chess player.”  
  
“Yes?” Jim says.  
  
“I also find the game to be stimulating. I would invite you for a game, in a public place, of course.”  
  
Jim accepts and can’t believe he’s got something to actually _look forward to_. He feels slightly less numb as Bones leads him away, a hand curled firmly around Jim’s.  


 

\----

  
He breaks two weeks after the trial and cries all over Bones’ scrubs in their dorm, just as he returns from a double-shift. Bones holds him close in spite of his own exhaustion and tells him he’ll take time to heal, that he’s in no rush.  


 

\----

  
Jim’s first genuine smile is in front of Spock, because the Vulcan is most endearing when he’s clueless and the way he fails to understand idiom is funny, period.  
  
When Spock’s lips twitch in return, Jim feels like he actually might get better.  
  
Eventually.


End file.
